


Bumblebee

by blackhighheels



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 10:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhighheels/pseuds/blackhighheels
Summary: "I still don't have health insurance" is the sentence that inspired this story...Jose shrugs and sits down on the kitchen counter next to the stove so they are eye to eye. "You done and did your ankle training shit?""You mean physical therapy?""Isn't that what I just said?"
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	Bumblebee

**LA, 27th December**

In hindsight he has to admit that it all makes so much more sense, now that he has the information. Seeing Brock go pale and jittery over lunch while he sorts through his mail is more than unusual.

"You ok, mama?" Jose asks when he notices it and takes in the silence that follows his question. His current de-facto roommate just keeps staring at the letter he holds, then eyes another one he has opened. Because they don't look like handwritten personal letters, Jose leans over the breakfast bar to see what is going on. "First hospital bills?" he asks, his tone light, because he still doesn't understand the shock on Brock's face.

"How am I gonna pay for all of this?" he finally speaks up, his voice quiet, but high-pitched and panicked.

"What do you mean? How much does your insurance cover?"

"I don't have health insurance." And there it is: The missing information.

"What? How...What do you… why don't you?" now he is so shocked he can barely form a sentence. Health insurance was one of the first things he got once he realised that he could afford it now. Yes, it was expensive and no, it doesn't cover everything. But with his knee acting up from time to time, the fillers and new teeth… let's just say his mother pointed out quite clearly when Vanjie had gone viral, that there is always a risk and that hospital bills are the thing she fears most in life. So, for once he had been a responsible adult and got health insurance. He can't understand how someone as responsible and careful as Brock is running around without it. "What about your Canadian one?" he comes up with the only possible solution.

"You have to be a permanent resident of Canada to have that. I lost it when I moved to Nashville. I just…. It's one of the things I always intended to take care of after DragRace and then forgot."

"How much is it?" He asks after he has digested the information.

"The hospital bill for the stay and the surgery alone is $35,467," he hands Jose the first bill. "Then we have the first MRI for $3500," another bill is handed to him. "Doctor's consultation with doctor Miller another $300," Brock stops and buries his face in his shaking hands.

"Shit," is all Jose says. He also knows that this was just the start. There are more bills to come from other doctors, the x-rays, the material they needed, the crutches, casts, bandages, more consultations to come and physical therapy. This is basically just the tip of the iceberg for the bare necessities of the surgery and hospital stay. For a second he wants to yell at Brock for being so irresponsible, but looking at the panicked idiot in front of him, his anger goes as fast as it has come. Instead, he goes around the bar and hugs him tightly. "Don't worry, we'll think of something, boo" he tells him. Knowing Brock's tendency for pessimism, he knows a little bit of optimism can't hurt, even if he doesn't have a real plan yet. Then again, he hasn't had a real plan since he got involved in his ex-boyfriend's business again.

***

**Berlin, 7th December**

"What the fuck?" Jose hears his manager Jason curse from the sofa. In the mirror he sees him reading something on his phone and that he doesn't look happy about it at all.

"What?" Jose asks him, hoping there is nothing wrong with any of his upcoming gigs.

"Nothing," Jason shakes his head and looks up for a second, before typing away on his phone.

"Yo, I wanna know what's up, Mary. Your worried-ass face doesn't help me concentrate on my mug. There a problem with the show? I done fucked up something?"

"Nothing to do with you." A deep sigh follows his words. "Just got an email that Brock cancelled all gigs, interviews, everything until further notice."

"What? Why?" Jose basically yells and is out of his chair at the make-up table a split second later.

"I don't know. It doesn't say. I just texted Steve and asked him."

"It must be real bad if he go and do shit like this," Jose knows, now pacing back and forth in front of the couch like a tiger in a cage. He stops when Jason's phone dings. "And?"

"Steve says he hurt his ankle before a show in Nashville and needs surgery."

"Hurt how? What surgery?" Jose isn't satisfied at all with the little information he has.

"I don't know that's all the text says," Jason shrugs.

Jose grumbles while he digs his phone out from underneath his drag clothes and calls Steve. "What the fuck did the idiot do to his ankle?" he asks as soon as the call is picked up.

"Hello to you too, Jose," Steve laughs.

"You better not get cute with me right now."

Steve sighs. "From what I understood, he slipped or something while in heels and messed up his left ankle pretty bad. They wanted to perform surgery immediately, but he refused. He has to go in tomorrow."

"So, what? They'll release him right after or the day after tomorrow? What does he cancel all his gigs for then?"

"They won't release him for a couple of days. He really did some damage. We're talking possible bone transplant and a lot of nails and screws. He won't be able to walk without crutches for months."

"Fuck."

"You can say that again."

"You with him?" Jose asks, because he knows how scary hospitals can be.

"No, that's another problem. He's alone. Which means he'll have to stay in hospital even longer. I'm stuck here in Chicago, Courtney can't go either, neither can his family. There's no one left in Nashville to take care of him."

"Idiot should have moved to LA months ago," Jose huffs.

"True," Brock's manager and best friend agrees.

After they hang up, Jose gets into Vanjie mode and does his solo show in Germany. But even while on stage he can't get the call out of his head. He leaves the venue right after the show, doesn't even take his make-up off backstage.

"You're quiet," Jason says when they get to the hotel and are in the elevator to get to their rooms.

"Mmh, just thinking," he nods and tries to push the one thought away that keeps popping up. Unsuccessfully. "We only have one gig left here right?" he asks and tries to talk himself out of going down that route at the same time. He can't stop feeling what he feels, though.

"Yes," the other man looks confused.

"How bad would it be, if I cancelled Hawaii?" he thinks out loud.

"Why would you want to…" he trails off, understanding dawning on his face. "Oh hell no, Jose. That's a bad idea. You cannot cancel gigs and fly back to the states to take care of your ex."

"He's still a friend. We're still good friends," he insists.

"When have you last spoken to your very good friend?"

"Fuck, fine, I haven't spoken to him in months. Since the tour ended... all we are now are social media buddies. But that doesn't mean that I should just let him hang. We had something for a while and even though it didn't work out and we didn't even manage to stay in contact as friends... it doesn't mean that I don't care. You're there when your friends need you, that's what you do as a responsible and nice ho, no matter what." Also his gut feeling is screaming at him that Brock needs him. It might be just wishful thinking, but the idea of him being all alone in a hospital with no one to look after him, makes Jose physically sick. He knows he is an idiot for still being in love with his ex even after a year apart, but he can't help it. He still cares.

Jason sighs, knowing that the decision is already made. "What do you want me to tell them?"

"Family emergency," Jose shrugs. "And please change my flight from LA to Nashville and make it as early as possible. And ask Steve about the details, which hospital, what time the surgery is. If I call Brooklynn Ho, all he'd do is tell me not to come." Jose instructs and smiles. The worry thatsettled in his stomach before, is slightly lifting, now that he has made a decision.

***

**Nashville, 16th December**

At first the constant fussing over him drives him crazy. Are you in pain? Have you taken your meds? What did the doctor say? When is the next appointment? What do you want for dinner? The constant questions are not a good combination with the amount of constant pain he is in. He snaps at Jose more than once and feels bad right after, then can't help it the next time. His usually very emotional and unrestraint ex-boyfriend seems to have the patience of a saint now and just rolls with the punches. Not even once does he yell back, insult him or simply leave. Instead, he takes care of the cats, goes grocery shopping, manages his doctors appointments and appointments for physical therapy. Jose makes sure his leg is elevated as much as possible and that there is always an ice-pack in the freezer.

"Hey, Jo?" he asks him from the seat beside him while they are making their way in an Uber through Nashville to the next check-up.

"Mmh?" he looks up from his phone.

"I don't think I've really said 'thank you' yet. You do know that I appreciate what you're doing for me, right? Because I do, more that I can put into words." He can't help the fluttery feeling in his stomach when Jose blushes and gets all shy.

"Bitch, if these new painmeds get you in your feels like that, they should have given them to you right after the surgery. 'Cause let me tell ya, you really were a real cunt back then," he says, but his words lack all bite.

"I know and I'm sorry. It's just hard for me to be this dependent on someone else for everything. I can't even shower alone," Brock huffs.

"Aren't you glad I am here to help you with it. You used to enjoy it," Jose wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and makes him laugh. It is nice that they can joke about it now, but a part of Brock wonders what would be different of they were still a couple. Would Jose have been there when he hurt himself? Would the kisses have helped with the pain and the fear before and after surgery. Would he feel less overwhelmed by his presence? What would it be like to just cuddle up to him like he wants to, without holding back. Even those showers would most likely be a thousand times better, if Jose just got in with him, instead of simply helping him undress, helping him in and making sure he doesn't slip and his cast doesn't get wet. There is no touching beside what can't be avoided and a few hugs, and Brock has to admit to himself that he misses physical contact so much it nearly hurts. Not any contact though, contact with Jose.

"I talked to my mother earlier while you were grocery shopping," Brock changes the topic once they reach the hospital and crawl out of the car.

"And?"

"She was sad that I couldn't come for Christmas because I am not allowed to fly on my own, but she understands," he reports as he hobbles into the hospital building on his crutches.

"You know what that means, right, Megatron?" Jose smirks.

"Yes, it means that I am coming to LA with you, so nurse Vanjie can look after me for a while longer."

A smile spreads slowly on Jose's face. "Can you imagine, me as Vanjie in a sexy nurse uniform looking after you?" he smirks, clearly imagining it. "I'd look sickening, but my feet would kill me after hauling your heavy ass around in those heels," he is giggling now and Brock joins him in his laughter.

"I think Brooke Lynn would be an even worse patient than I am."

"Giiirl, Vanjie would kick her ass ghetto style, cast or no cast."

"We would be like House and Cuddy," Brock jokes.

"Bitch, why'd you want to be a house?" Jose apparently has no idea what he is talking about.

"It's a TV show, Jo. House? The grumpy old guy who is like a genius doctor?" Brock laughs.

"Old guy? Of course you'd know about that show, grandpa" Jose teases him and Brock tries to hit his leg with his left crutch, but he is too fast and runs a couple of steps ahead. "Oh, and by the way: We're taking the cats to LA." Jose adds.

"How is that a 'by the way'?"

"In my head it is," Jose is laughing again and Brock doesn't even try to protest, knowing it is pointless anyway. He simply chuckles as Jose goes to the reception desk to check him in. He sits down in the waiting area and enjoys the warmth that spreads through his body as he watches Jose taking care of everything once again. It's crazy how much he still loves him.

***

**Nashville 5th December**

Brock can't remember a time when he has thrown up from pain, but there is a first time for everything. Why in the world has he decided to get ready at home and then leave the house in heels? And why does it have to be one of the rare days when there is black ice on the streets? He takes exactly one step out of the house before he slips, his left foot twisting in a weird angle, a sickening sound accompanying it and he goes down.

He makes it back to his apartment somehow, puts ice on the ankle and calls the club, because there is no way he can work tonight.

It's three in the morning when he calls an uber to take him to the hospital, because his ankle is black by now and triple the size it usually is. This is bad, he just knows it. Getting out of drag is horrible and the pain when he takes his tights off makes him throw up the first time.

He vomits into the snow when he reaches the sidewalk to wait for his uber. The driver has some compassion and gets a nurse with a wheelchair, because there is no way he can walk to the emergency room. The rest of the night and early morning is a blur of doctor's consultations, x-rays, MRI, ultra-sound and other tests. When the sun comes up, he knows just how badly he hurt himself. They are telling him he has torn ligaments, a possible ruptured capsule and his ankle is in such a bad shape that he might need a bone transplant in one place, because they are not sure his own bone can be saved. They are going to perform the surgery as soon as possible, but he asks for a day or two to get his affairs in order.

They ask him who can pick him up, because he is not allowed under any circumstances to walk on the ankle. However, there is no one here. Everyone left or lives somewhere else entirely. Jose's face flashes in his mind for a split second, but he forbids himself to even think about it. They haven't been together in a long time and these days one can barely call them friends, even though that's the official title. It's been months since they so much as talked on the phone or texted. He misses him, but he has no right to.

He calls Steve first, because he needs to cancel and manage everything. Then he calls his mother and tells her what happened, but makes it sound a lot less dramatic than it is. Just a broken ankle, right? He also pushes the fear back down about the costs of it all. It's not like he has a choice. He needs this surgery, no matter the debt he will be left with. He just has to work so much harder once he'll be able to work again. Whenever that is going to be. The panic attack that follows that thought has him gasping for breath.

***

**LA, 14th February**

The venue is filled to the brim with people. Brock can't remember the last time it was that packed. He wonders how he hasn't heard about this show before, when the line up is this amazing. He thought that Vanjie would be on stage somewhere south and Nina was supposed to be in Columbus for Valentine's Day, but he must have got that wrong. In a way, he feels a bit offended that he wasn't asked to be part of this show before he hurt himself.

Bianca hosts the show together with Adore, which is hilarious as always and completely lets him forget that he is stuck on a small couch on a small platform beside the stage, his crutches leaning against the wall. Jose made sure he has everything he could possibly need and two people are with him at all times in case he needs the restroom, so they can clear the way for him.

Kameron flies from the ceiling like during wtw. A'keria and Silky perform a dream girls number with Asia instead of Vanjie.Detox joins him after her number and he is glad to see his old friend. Vanjie is on last, and he can't take his eyes off of her. He nearly dies laughing when she first steps out on stage in a tiny, white, latex nurse outfit, complete with a little hat. She winks at him when she catches his eye, their little inside joke making her giggle on stage.

"Good evening, all my little Valentine love hos," she yells into the mic after her last number. Bianca rubs her ear exaggeratedly because of the volume. Brock laughs again. "Listen, I know all you hos want to get fucking drunk, or romance your boos... or fuck some trade, but I just wanted to say thank you, to all of you." The little speech sounds suspiciously more like Jose than Vanjie, even though he is standing on stage in full drag. Maybe he is already drunk because he seems very emotional. "Ru always talks about us being family and all that. Honestly, sometimes I don't know if I can believe that shit, you know, with all that's going down with you bitches on twitter and insta. But one of our own needs us and so I called my drag family," Vanjie looks around the room. "Alexis mama, where are you?" he asks and Alexis steps on stage beside him, strangely out of drag. Brock feels more and more confused the longer he listens to Vanjie's speech. Also, because he didn't even know that Alexis is in town. "The family really came together this time and, bitches," Vanjie's voice cracks and he wipes away a stray tear, "you really did it. You know, you really came through for a ho like me to help out a sister in need," he sniffles a bit and gets himself back under control. "I'll kiss all of you later," he laughs when Adore starts cheering excitedly and Bianca stares her down. "Adore, bitch, of course I'll be your Valentine any day of the year," he screams laughing and hands the mic back to Bianca, before he gives all people on stage a long hug, Adore a peck on the lips, and then makes his way towards Brock.

"What was that all about?"Brock asks when Jose sits down beside him and kicks off his shoes. Jose seems very nervous all of a sudden and wipes away another tear.

"You're gonna be so angry, Mary" he mutters in reply and keeps looking to the floor.

"Jo?" he places a hand on top of his smaller ones and laces his fingers through his, in a gesture so familiar it takes his breath away. He wishes they could always sit like this.

"All of this, tonight…like all the queens… everyone… they all didn't get paid. Most of them even donated money when they heard… like every cent we made tonight is to pay for your medical bills," he finally spits it out.

This time Brock really can't breathe. "What?" he croaks.

"When they heard what happened, I kept getting calls from everyone. And you know me, I can't keep my mouth shut for shit, so I might have let it slip that you have no insurance and how expensive all the transformer's shit in your ankle is, while you're not making any money as long as you can't work. And then Alexis said something about organising a show and, you know, Nina suggested Valentine's Day and then suddenly Bianca calls me and wants in and we needed a bigger venue. And just now Alexis told me that it looks like with just tonight you're basically fully covered, mama and … Please say something," Jose begs.

Brock's mind is a complete blank, blown to bits and pieces just like his ankle. The immense amount of debt has been hanging over his head for weeks and here is Jose telling him, that they raised such an immense amount of money for him in a single night. All these people are here on stage, free of charge… for him. It is too much. He clutches Jose's shoulders, pulls him to him in a desperate embrace and bursts into tears, sobs shaking his body as the worry falls off. "You did…. Jose… all of this… you….Thank you. I love you." It's Valentine's Dayand they keep holding each other while the party continues around them, Jose's make-up completely ruined as Brock's tears roll off the shoulder of his latex nurse's outfit.

***

**Nashville, 9th December**

Jose pushes himself up on the armrest of the chair and sits down in a different way, because his legs are falling asleep. The chairs in ICU are not the most comfortable, but he refuses to leave the room. Brock is still asleep after the surgery, his leg in a white cast, toes obscenely swollen, blue, black and the skin tinted orange from the antiseptic. The machines tell him that everything is ok, because there is no alarm. The nurses told him earlier that surgery went well, but took longer than they thought, because they decided against the bone transplant and used plates, nails and screws instead. It will take a long time to heal and they can't promise anything, but Brock should be fine. It's when they list all the things they fixed when the full extend of Brock's injuries hits Jose. It's not life-threatening, but for a moment it feels like it is. Brock is a dancing drag queen and he belongs on stage. What would he do without it?

Jose puts in his headphones and flips through his phone for a while, his usual playlists not really what he wants at the moment.

He finds a very small playlist hidden between the others and remembers when he made it during the tour in the UK. He heard one of the songs on the radio and asked the Uber driver who the singer was, because the voice gave him goosebumps and his romantic heart made him think of Brock. It's his go to playlist when he drowns in missing Brock and seeing it while being in the same room with him is a strange thing. It feels right though, and so he puts the three songs on repeat and closes his eyes.

"Your love I'm lost in, even though I'm nothing to you now. There must be something in the water, 'cause every day it's getting colder. And if only I could hold ya," he sings along as quietly as he is able to, when the door opens and a nurse comes in.

"Can't be too long now," she lets him now after checking on Brock and Jose nods and says a silent thank you.

"Hold me while you wait. I wish that I was good enough. If only I could wake you up, my love, my love, my love…" Jose stops his quiet singing minutes later when he sees Brock's eyelids flutter. When he opens his eyes, Jose sits up and gently touches his arm, so he knows someone is there.

"Jose?" Brock slurs after staring at him for a moment, and his voice is hoarse and barely audible.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," he smiles at him and squeezes his hand.

"You're here. I miss you so much, boo" Brock mumbles and Jose isn't sure if that's the truth he isn't supposed to hear, or simply the side-effect of the general anaesthesia. Before he can think too much about it, Brock suddenly grips his hand tightly. "I'm gonna be sick," he presses out between clenched teeth and throws up violently all over the thin sheet thats covers him and their joined hands a second later.

Brock keeps throwing up for the next half hour and Jose holds one kidney bowl after the other underneath his chin, until he just keeps dry heaving. The nurses assure him it's nothing serious and just happens sometimes. Some people react to the anaesthesia like this and apparently Brock is one of them. When Brock calms down a bit, Jose goes to wash his hands, because he has only wiped them down so far. He comes back with a washcloth and a glass of water for Brock and helps him clean up, after the nurses change the sheet and tell him Brock will be moved to his room shortly.

"You ok?" he asks him once Brock has sipped some of the water with Jose's help. Brock is shaking so much at this point his teeth keep chattering.

"Mmh," he nods and stares at him again. "You really here?"

"Yup, Mami," Jose smiles and runs his fingers through Brock's sweaty curls. He's pretty sure Brock won't remember any of it later, anyway. "Flew in when I heard your dumb ass has got himself all fucked up and stuck alone in a hospital."

Brock keeps staring even though he seems to fight his eyes closing. "Were you singing?"

"Don't tell me that's what made you sick," he jokes and manages to get a weak smile from Brock.

"'s nice," the Canadian mumbles, his eyes finally drooping. "Sing for me?"

"Sure, as long as you don't hurl on me again. Got your vomit on my good Gucci sweater now, bitch," Jose's answer is harsh, but his smile is wide and gentle. He unplugs the headphones from the phone, starts the song where he left off when Brock woke up.He sings along as gently as possible. "I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug, I was getting kind of used to being someone you loved. And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes, I fall into your arms. I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around. For now the day bleeds into night fall and you're not here to get me through it all…" Brock is asleep before he has finished the chorus.

***

**LA 24th December**

"Hey, Megatron! How many times do I have to tell you to sit your ass down on the couch?" Jose yells from the bathroom door. He was gone for only five seconds to take a shower and still Brock has managed to get a glass of juice over to the table and is now filling Riley's bowl with food.

"He is hungry and keeps staring at me," Brock shrugs and makes his way back to the couch on his crutches.

"Bitch, he'll look like Silks by the time you leave," Jose snorts and places a pillow on the couch beside Brock, who obediently rests his ankle on it. Next he places the ice pack over the ankle, careful not to bump against the cast too much, because he knows that Brock is still in a lot of pain. "Why don't you pet your two scaredy cats and I take care of the dirty laundry. My mom will kick my ass, if it's all cluttered in here, looking like I'm a hoarder-ho when she gets here tomorrow." He goes on to pick up several items of clothing that are scattered all over the apartment. While Jose is usually a neat freak, something that can't be said about Brock, taking care of Brock is exhausting and adding two cats and a dog doesn't ease his load.

"I wish I could help you," Brock mumbles as he watches him walk around with the hamper in hand.

"Now that you have a fucked up ankle you wanna clean?" Jose teases, but stops in front of the couch when Brock doesn't laugh about it. "You can fold when I get the clothes out of the dryer, if that makes you feel any better," he offers and is rewarded with a smile. Jose can't help it and strokes one of the too long curls off Brock's forehead, before he continues his hunt for dirty laundry. "Hey, bucko, get off the bed. You can leave your fluff all over daddy's pillow, but not my side," Brock hears him yell from the bedroom and knows he has found the other cat. The sleeping arrangements were a bit of a longer discussion, but in the end they agreed that it was stupid for one of them to sleep on the sofa.

Jose leaves after another couple of minutes and when he is gone for about half an hour Brock gets restless again. Where is he? The washing machine and dryer is right around the corner in the garage. Putting in one load of laundry and taking another one out doesn't take that long. If he wanted to leave, at least he could have said something, right? Just when he has convinced himself that Jose is most likely at Silky's, taking a break from looking after him, the door opens and he is back, no laundry in sight.

"What took you so long? I'm getting hungry and want to order something," he complains, even though he knows he sounds like a spoiled brat.

"Calm down, queen, I brought you a surprise. Kind of an early Christmas present," Jose grins, still standing in front of the front door.

"Is it eatable?"

"Uhm… no."

"I want something to eat! I am starving!" he full on whines this time.

"Is that a way to greet your mother?" he hears as the door opens and his mother steps into the apartment, pausing beside Jose. Brock thinks he is dreaming.

"Mom?" he asks, already tearing up.

"Oh honey," his mother sighs when she sees the large blue cast his leg is in and hugs him tightly. Brock is full on sobbing a second later. It takes him a while to get himself back under control and pull back from his mother's embrace. Jose is watching them from the door with tears in his eyes. "You flew in my mother?" Brock asks and hiccups.

"Merry Christmas," Jose shrugs with a shy smile and a little sniffle.

"Come here," Brock begs him and holds his arms open. He just needs to have Jose close and he doesn't give a fuck about being exes and all. He holds him tightly and buries his face in Jose's neck to breathe him in. The aftershave he uses has become familiar again over the last couple of weeks and he can't get enough. He wishes he could kiss him. "Thank you," he whispers instead and blinks against the new onslaught of tears.

"De nada," Jose replies and Brock feels his hand glide into his hair, just like he always did when they were still together. "And now decide where you wanna go for dinner, because we're taking your momma out. I'll take her stuff into the bedroom, because, bitch, now I finally have an excuse to sleep on the couch and get away from your snoring." Brock laughs about Jose's sass and so does his mother. He really, really loves this guy and he can't believe to what lengths he goes to help him, even if it means flying in his mother and sleeping on the couch.

***

**Nashville 12th December**

Jose stands outside of Brock's room, his back pressed to the wall, eyes closed as he bumps the back of his head against the wall again and again in an attempt to distract himself with the pain of his skull from the pain in his heart. He bites his lip, tries to stop the tears from falling and wonders again what he is even doing here. Why is he doing this to himself? He should have known it was a mistake to do this.The loyal lapdog in him had jumped at the chance to come running for help when his ex got hurt and now here he is, stranded on a hospital floor. He even forgot his phone in the room in his hurry to get away from the hateful things Brock was throwing his way.

"Jose, darling, you're ok?" Maya, one of the older nurses asks him as she stops in front of him. Jose opens his eyes and wants to tell her he's fine, but can't get the lie over his lips. Instead the tears start falling faster than he can wipe them away.

"He's just…" he trails off, not knowing what to say.

"You're boyfriend still in a foul mood?" she asks knowingly and Jose realises even the hospital staff has noticed by now how Brock treats him. He is civil with the nurses, therapists and doctors, but when it comes to Jose, Brock really lets him have it.

"He not my boyfriend anymore," he sniffs.

"Aw, honey, don't break up with him now. He's just in a lot of pain and very frustrated," she squeezes his arm gently.

"No, we ain't been no couple for over a year, you know. Just dated a couple of months and then ended it. Finito. We just friends now, were friends… social media friends?" he rambles, not sure how to describe what they are to each other. Judging by Brock's behaviour over the last two days they are nothing to each other anymore.

"You're always staying with your friends at the hospital when they get hurt?" she smiles. "You haven't left this building since you got here four days ago. And no matter what you are or are not, you should not be standing in this hallway crying after looking after him. We nurses are barely needed because you do it all and he better appreciate it."

"He said that he hates me being here all day and that all I do is hurt him. That I don't really help. That I talk too loud. That I'm too messy with my stuff all over the place," Jose recounts the snide and mean comments Brock threw his way in the last two hours alone. "He says he doesn't want to listen to the dumb shit I say." The last comment the one that made him flee the room and hide in the hallway.

"Darling, why don't you get your things, get yourself a hotel room and give the idiot a day or two to come to appreciate everything you're doing for him. Believe me, other patients would kill to have someone like you at their beck and call twenty-four seven."

Jose thinks about the advice for a moment and then decides to take it. He also could use a long hot bath and a good night's sleep. He is exhausted.

"Thank you, Maya. I'll do that," he gives her a small smile and a quick hug, before he takes a deep breath and then walks back into the room he fled earlier.

"Jose, can you hand me hand me the water, please? I'm sick of this Gatorade," Brock demands more than asks when he sees him walking in. He doesn't even answer him, but instead grabs his backpack and stuffs all of his things inside that he can find. Then he grabs his phone from the table by Brock's bed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," he replies, his voice slightly breaking.

"Jose…" Brock wants to say something, but he holds his hand up and stops him.

"You know, I don't expect no thank you or nothing and I know that you didn't ask me to be here. But you've been an absolute ungrateful little shit the last two days. I know you're a hurting ho, but I'm a second away from punching you in the face for the hurtful and hateful shit you say. You don't want me here, then take your fucking crutches and get your fucking water yourself, asshole, because I'm outta here." His tone is more sad than angry and before he can burst into tears again, he leaves the room without waiting for a reply.

At the hotel he cries it out while lying in the bathtub and then falls into bed completely exhausted. He calls Jason in the morning, then Steve while treating himself to a large breakfast. The later already knows what happened because Brock called him late last night, upset over his own behaviour. Steve also gives him more of an insight of what is going on with Brock, confirming Jose's suspicions about pain, embarrassment, anxiety and simply being comfortable enough with Jose to show him the worst parts of himself.

After the talk Jose grabs his phone and wallet and stops by the Starbucks around the corner before he walks the short distance back to the hospital.

Brock looks surprised when he walks into the room without knocking and places the coffee cup on the table.

"Here is some decent coffee. Drink it or leave it, I don't care. And if one more nasty ass word comes out of your mouth when I'm here, then I'm gonna whoop your ass and then be gone for good. Got me, bitch?" Jose is in full Vanjie mode.

"Yeah," Brock nods and smiles shyly and even a bit embarrassed, before he takes the coffee cup and sips. He puts it back down on the table and opens and closes his mouth a couple of times.

"What, bitch? Speak up! Or they gone and operated on your voice too while I was gone?" Jose asks him and sits down on the bed, careful not to bump against Brock.

"No," Brock chuckles. "They are gonna pull the drainage catheter later and it's supposed to fucking hurt." He stops again.

"What? You want me to come along and hold your hand?" Jose teases, not really knowing where Brock is going with this.

"Yes," comes the tentative reply.

"Oh," now he is surprised. "Sure. Just remember, if you break my hand and it go and look like your nasty ass toes, then I'll shove the drainage motherfucker right back in." He threatens with a smile and is glad when Brock smiles as well.

The scream of pure terror and pain that Brock lets out when they pull the catheter gives Jose goosebumps for months when he thinks about it. It's the stuff nightmares are made of. In the aftermath of it, their hands stay linked throughout the day and it is Brock who asks Jose to stay when he wants to go back to his hotel room in the evening.

***

**Toronto 16th April**

"And it's been just such a great experience. I'm very excited for all of you to see it," Brock finishes answering the last question. It's an interview for a newspaper, but he's still in full drag because the different types of media keep coming. It's the fourth interview of the day for DragRace Canada and he has a couple of more to go. At least the couch he sits on is comfortable and he didn't have to tuck in this outfit. There is a knock on the door of the suite and a second later Jose pops his head in.

"Sorry," he says as he walks up to them, knowing it's not something that gets recorded. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving now for the fittings. My call time tonight is eleven so I should be back around midnight. Courtney should be here in an hour," he tells him quietly, more quietly than most people think he is able to.

"You're not joining us for dinner?" he asks surprised, because he thought that was a given.

"Nah, DJ is in town and I'm gonna hang out with him for a bit before the show."

"Don't get drunk and lost in the city," he warns him jokingly.

"Hey, you know me. I'm a professional ho," Jose protests, his voice back to its usual volume.

"I know. But I also know the disaster that is you and Shangela together," he laughs and Jose has to laugh as well.

"Imma be good," he promises. "See ya later, boo," he adds and then leaves with a small wave.

"Is it ok if I ask about Vanjie being here?" the young reporter asks and it's the politeness that makes Brock answer.

"Yes, of course. Jose, Miss Vanjie, and I travelled here together, because I still can't fly anywhere on my own," he says and points to the medical boot he is wearing. "For longer distances I still have to use crutches or a cane."

"You broke your ankle in Nashville in December, right?"

"Yes. I broke the ankle, the bone split into tiny pieces, and I tore everything that can be torn. Jose heard about it and knew that I had no one left in Nashville to help me out. He flew in and looked after me, then took me back to LA, even brought my cats. While there, I decided that it was time that I finally moved to LA, so he helped me with that as well. He, like, painted every wall in my apartment and nearly broke his neck when he climbed on a ladder, when he insisted on changing all the light bulbs himself," Brock laughs at the memory. "I was seconds away from climbing the ladder with my moon boot just to get him off of it."

"Are you two back together then?"

"No, no," Brock shakes his head slowly and thinks about his words. "But we still care about each other a lot. You know, people always say that you find out who your real friends are in a time of need, and I had a lot of people really come through for me these last couple of months. But Jose… I don't think I'llever be able to make it up to him, or even be able to put into words what he did for me." Brock takes a breath so he won't get too emotional. "He literally saw me at my lowest in every way and he still stuck around. You know he like… helped me to the bathroom, endured it when I was in so much pain and so frustrated that I kept lashing out at him for no reason…I've never known anyone like him. He really is one of a kind and the most thoughtful and generous person I've ever met."

"It sounds like you still have a very deep connection."

"Honestly, I think the connection we have now is even deeper than when we were a couple. I didn't appreciate him the way I should have back then. I wish I could change that," he admits.

"Do you think you will get back together at some point?"

Brock takes his time before answering the question. It's something he's been thinking about more and more over the last couple of months. When they were still together he was often annoyed by how clingy Jose got, how little freedom he had left. Now, he wants to keep Jose close all the time and not because he looks after him, but because him being there makes everything better.He wishes he could kiss him and touch him when he wants to. He knows, he wants Jose back as his boyfriend, he just isn't quite sure yet how to go about it. It's not something that should be in an interview though.

"I have no crystal ball to look into the future. We're very close friends now and he means the world to me," he says instead.

***

**LA, 3rd March**

"Honey, I'm home," Jose yells as he steps through the front door and lets Riley off the leash. Brock only rolls his eyes and keeps stirring the sauce he has on the stove. "Look at your step-mommy being all domestic and shit, Riley. Maybe we'll get her to cook for you, too," Jose babbles in the dog's direction.

"Forget it," Brock snorts.

"Hey kitty kitty," Jose chases the cats through the living room by now, demanding cuddles.

"And step-mommy?"

"How else am I like, going to explain to little Riley here… The situation is kinda complicado…fucked up really, for a kid to understand. Like, I had to make it easy for him," Jose shrugs and sits down on the kitchen counter next to the stove so they are eye to eye. "You done and did your ankle training shit?"

"You mean physical therapy?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Yes, I did," he nods. "And what is so complicated for Riley?" he asks, not willing yet to let it go. He hopes that maybe this crazy attempt at a conversation will enlighten him as to where he and Jose are standing. They are closer than ever, the relaxed domesticity of the arrangement surprising Brock a lot. He isn't feeling stifled at all, instead enjoys the company. And, if he is honest, he is getting more and more hopeful that they will get back together. Being close to Jose and not being close to him the way he wants to is torture.

"You know, you were his sort of daddy for a while and then you left and now you're back, but only for a while and I don't want him to get too attached," Jose looks anywhere but at him as he speaks and plays with his fingers.

"Jo," Brock starts, but stops when he looks up and their eyes meet. Usually, he is pretty upfront with what he wants, but this isn't just anyone. This is the man he loves, he has come to accept that, and he wants him back. He places one hand on Jose's to stop the nervous fidgeting. They have touched countless times over the last weeks, Jose had to help him shower for gods sake, but this feels different. Jose's brown eyes are soft and vulnerable and he decides to just go with what feels right. After over a year he is going to kiss the man he loves, the knowledge makes him giddy.

"Yo, big Silky in da house," a scream interrupts the moment and Brock has never wanted to punch Silky before, but now he really does.

"Silkyyyy," Jose seems excited and jumps off the counter to greet his friend like nothing happened. Disappointment washes over Brock and he feels his stomach clench. Suddenly he isn't hungry anymore.

"Mama's bringing some exciting news," Silky goes on and plops down on the couch. Apparently he is staying.

"Spill it, bitch," Jose seems excited about the gossip.

"Berty, the biggest asshole neighbour in the world, is moving out next week. You know what that means, bitches? Party time!" Silky screams and Jose joins him, screaming so loud that Riley and the cats run off.

"That the guy living next to you?" Brock makes his presence known, now that he has his emotions back under control.

"Oh, hello, Miss Brooke Lynn. Still living in this five star resort for free? Personal servant on tap round the clock." Silky smirks. It seems that the longer Brock stays, the more pointed his comments are getting. "That ankle ain't healed yet?"

"Silky, shut the fuck up and leave the sicko alone," Jose defends him.

"What? I'm just saying…"

"It's none of your fucking business," Brock interrupts him, feeling the end of his patience nearing.

"True that," Jose nods and winks at Brock. "And now tell me about asshole moving," he turns his attention back to his friend and neighbour. "Who is gonna move in? Do we know yet?"

"That's the real dope part: No one. They haven't even put it on the market yet, because asshole's lease wasn't up, but he is leaving anyway."

"Still thinking about moving to LA, mami?" Jose turns to Brock and surprises him. Yes, they talked about it before and Brock knows that it would totally make sense, especially if things with Jose go the way he wants them to. But would it really be smart to move in next door to him?

"Oh hell no! No exes allowed in the building," Silky intervenes and Brock knows he has a point.

"Bitch, you think it's better for us two idiots to live together in my apartment until he's all learned to walk on his own again? This way I can at least keep an eye on his toddler steps while getting my bed back," Jose points out.

"Hey, I said I could sleep on the couch," Brock feels the need to point out. After his mother's visit on Christmas the separate sleeping arrangements have somehow stayed in place, not that they really talked about it. Maybe Jose really hates his snoring?

"Yeah and have your ass fall off the couch, or your ankle bump into something and then nurse Vanjie will have to come back full time. Forget it, bitch," Jose shakes his head.

"Can we talk about this later? I have to check on dinner," Brock hopes to avoid talking about it with Silky there.

"Oooh, what's for dinner? I'm hungry," Silky perks up again at the mention of food.

"You're always hungry, Silks," Jose laughs and Brock flees back into the kitchen as fast as he can with his crutches.

***

**LA, 26th June**

"Yo, Brock? Bitch, you're home?" Jose yells as he opens the front door to his neighbour's apartment, knowing it's always unlocked during the day when he is home.

"Bedroom," a yell comes back and he stops quickly to pet the cats, before he walks into the bedroom, where he finds the person he is looking for sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes and clothes.

"Shit, did the holy mother of drag throw up in here or what happened?" he jokes and sits down on the bed.

"No, I'm just sorting through my stuff to get the outfits ready for season two of Drag Race Canada. It's a mess. My system is completely blown because of the move and my fucking ankle," he sighs and sounds really frustrated.

"Need some help?" Jose offers, hoping it will give him something to do with his hands while he tries to figure out how to address what he has come here for.

"Nah, I need a break anyway. What's up? Why are you here, papi?" Brock turns around so he is facing him. Jose knows this is the opening he needs, even though he doesn't really want it. "I didn't think I'd see you today since you only got back this morning."

"Yeah, yeah," Jose nods. Usually he wouldn't stop by until the next day when he just got back from a week long work trip, but he really needs to talk to Brock. He has been putting it off for too long. "So, uhm, I read your interviews that just came out," he starts.

"You did?"he seems surprised.

"Yeah, them thirsty drag press hos kept pushing my nose in them while on the tourbus. This is really big for Canada, huh?" he asks.

"Yeah, I am surprised myself by the exposure it's getting. But you were there for the press week in Toronto. Lots of interview."

"Mmmh, sure, mami, I was there. I just didn't really know that you, like, mentioned me in them interviews. So much," he spits out what he really wants to talk about.

"Oh?" Brock looks up at him and Jose can't really place the look. If he wasn't so sure that Brock is a stone cold motherfucker, he'd say he looks nervous.

"Listen…You say all this nice stuff about me and not only in one interview, but in a gazillion. The other queens were all up in this the whole last week, trying to make me admit that we're actually back together and shit and… fuck… why did you say all of this nice ass shit about me? It fucking sounds like a declaration of love. You know, the real romantic kind, with the violins and doves and stuff. The fans will start again with all the Branjie shit," he rants while Brock just keeps looking at him.

"What if it is?"

"What if it is what?" Jose can't follow. For seconds, that feel like hours, there is silence.

"A declaration of love," Brock finally says and Jose feels his heart stop for a second, before it speeds up.

"What?" he squeaks breathlessly.

"I love you, Jose, you know that. And I've known that I am in love with you for a long time. But I didn't know what to do and if I could be what you need me to be. And then this fucking accident happened and you showed up and I just… I wanna be with you," Brock explains while Jose is pretty sure his chin hits the floor with the first words. Brock sits up on his knees so they are the same height. "I miss you, even though we spend more time together than ever before," he adds and Jose sees him slowly coming closer. He closes his eyes just as their lips touch in a gentle peck. "I want to be your boyfriend again." A real kiss follows and Jose can't help but wrap his arms around Brock's neck and burry his hands in his messy curls. God, he missed him. "Please." Brock mumbles against his lips and Jose pulls him closer. The kiss becomes more passionate and they both get lost in it for a while. It's when Brock pushes him backwards onto the bed that Jose snaps out of it. He places a hand on Brock's chest and stops him.

"I can't do this," he whispers against his lips and feels his heart break when Brock jerks back from him like he slapped him. He sits on the floor between his drag, looking so heartbroken that Jose can barely take it. He thinks there might even be tears in his eyes. "No, Brock, listen," he adds quickly, as he sees Brock's walls slowly building back up behind his eyes. He slides off the bed, sits down beside him and gently takes his hands. "I love you. You're my very own romantic hero and just like in those romantic movies I've never gotten over you. Why do you think I dropped everything to come and clean up your vomit after surgery or let you cuss me out for trying to get your lazy ass out of bed when you were hurting, but still needed to get up?" he stops and makes sure he has his attention. "I've been hoping and dreaming about the speech you just gave, since we broke up. But you hurt me, asshole, you really did, and right now I can't trust the stuff you saying, because maybe it's just because I did all of this for you. Maybe, once you're all better you go back to being the player bitch who wants his freedom back and my ass will be left in the dust again. I can't risk it," he lays it all out for him.

"It's not gratefulness, Jose, just like your feelings aren't pity,"Brock pleads with him.

"Can you swear that once your fucking ankle is ok and you're back at the clubs twirling and flirting, you won't want your freedom back? You won't want to spend the night with trade? You won't feel trapped by me and my needy ways?"

"I've loved you for so long, I just know that I will love you then, too, moon boot or not. It won't make any difference" Brock shrugs.

"Prove it," Jose demands, before it registers in his brain what he just said.

"What? How?" Brock is just as confused.

"Fuck, I don't know," he throws his arms up to his sides. "Maybe once you're actually better and you can find out, if you really mean it, then we can talk again? See, if you still in love with me then?" his voice is small, revealing how little trust he actually has in Brock's feelings.

"Ok," the Canadian just nods with a small pained smile. "We have a deal."

"Ok," Jose repeats and smiles as well.

"Can we hug on it?" Brock smirks.

"Bitch, of course we can hug, as long as you keep those delicious, sinful lips away from mine," Jose mutters and sinks into Brock's open arms as he sits on his lap.

***

**Toronto, 17th September**

"Who'd thunk that the one and only Vanessa Vanjie Mateo 'd make such a dope job as a judge?! I was giving Vanjie Mama Ru realness," Jose is basically vibrating with energy, as they enter Brock's changing room on set after filming is done for the day.

"Well, me, boo, otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it," he laughs and kicks his shoes off. It's the first time he is back in heels after the accident and even though he only walked a couple of steps in them, his foot is throbbing.

"And did you hear all those bad ass words I used? Learned them all at the Fenty events where the rich people say all this shit no one understands, but sounds real smart," Jose giggles and takes his wig off.

"Color me very impressed," Brock nods with a smile, watching the man he loves. Jose is simply adorable.

"You know what I color you? Orange. Because you just wiped your fucking eyeshadow all over your face and look like a fucking oompa loompa" Jose screeches in delight at his own joke and Brock's look, and he can't help but join his laughter.

"Asshole," Brock throws back, before he takes the make-up wipe he just used, grabs Jose and wipes it all over his face, making him scream and laugh at the same time, as he wiggles to get away from him.

"No, stop! Stop! Get your orange oompa loompa fingers out of my face, bitch." Jose swats at his hands, but is still laughing. His face and chest are red, his dimples showing, make up all messed up now, his hair sticking up in all directions and his eyes are twinkling with mirth. Brock thinks he has never looked more beautiful.

"God, I love you," he says quietly and Jose immediately quiets down and just looks at him. Brock feels panic bubble up, because he remembers their agreement, even though they haven't talked about it anymore since. It hasn't changed his feelings though.

The past three months they spent just as much time together and Jose is still there for every doctor's appointment. When the brace and the boot finally came off, they celebrated, just the two of them. Brock invited him to dinner and offered him a spot as a guest judge on the Canadian Drag race. He will never be able to make up for what Jose has done for him, but he can try.

Before he can apologise for fucking up again, Jose kisses him. It's tentative at first, but gets deeper when Brock responds without hesitation. He knows what and who he wants.

"I love you, too," Jose finally says when they break the kiss after a while to catch their breath. Brock can only beam, he is so happy. "You sure you want this? Me? All up in your business all the time with so little space you'll feel like fucking sardines in a can?"

"You gonna be the other sardine in the can with me?" he chuckles at the strange reference and kisses him once again. "We've been can-ed together since you showed up at the hospital," he points out.

"We gonna be fully body can-ed together once we get back to the hotel, boo," Jose cackles.

"Can we please stop the fish metaphors when talking about sex?" Brock wrinkles his nose.

"Bitch, why'd you have to say that?" Jose slaps his shoulder and steps back. "You nasty." They both grab make-up remover to clean their faces.

"Me? You're the one who started it!" Brock points out and has to laugh again. This whole argument is ridiculous.

"Shut up, Bumblebee."

"I though I was Megatron," he protests the reference.

"Not anymore, the sexy silver boot is gone."

"Ha! You hated the boot!"

"Hated the cast even more," Jose shrugs, this time he is not laughing.

"How about this: I put the boot back on and you put the nurse outfit back on and we'll see what happens."

"You a kinky bitch, boo," Jose rolls his eyes, but kisses Brock quickly before he goes on to take his costume off.

They banter back and forth, make out in between and finally leave the studio hand in hand with a lot less space between them than necessary.

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics quoted are of the songs 'Bruises', 'Hold me while you wait' and 'Someone you loved' by Lewis Capaldi.


End file.
